It's One Word
by CastielAnAngelOfTheLord
Summary: Driven to the edge of the choices he'll have to make if Sam actually does say yes, like Zachariah's time travel trip had shown. Dean makes the choice he'd been putting off for months. He finally decided to say yes, if it means it'll save Sam.


It was never meant to end like this.  
From the very start, since the apocalypse business kicked off it was never meant to end like this. Dean had always said to himself that he would never give up, how he would never become the person he saw when Zachariah had abruptly zapped him forward in time to a place where Sam wasn't Sam and the Dean there wanted to say yes...

And yet here he was, at the mercy of the angel he had willingly summoned. He couldn't get help even if he wanted to. He had specifically made the decision not to back out of his choice, no matter how stupid it was.

Dean had chosen somewhere out of the way, if anyone searched where he was they would be too late. It was about a couple hours drive from any form of socialization or township. The wooden planks of the barn he had settled in towered over him, casting deep shadows over the floor, only permeated by the sharp flecks of sunlight that force its way through the cracks in the rotting walls. The floor was blanketed with a layer of hay and straw, an uneasy comfort to the tense situation. He was trapped in his own idea.  
No one could stop him. Yet his eyes still refused to rise and meet the ones that were staring intently at him, he could feel the cold prickle forcing the hairs on his neck to stand on end.

"Dean, you invite someone to your home, you wouldn't turn away hospitality. You summoned me here so don't refuse to make eye contact." Michael stated, not shifting position.  
Dean managed to rise his eyes slowly; staring at the shoes, black leather; at the trousers, black and formal; the dress shirt and jacket complemented his look. Dean noticed it was the polar opposite of what Sam- No, Lucifer- had worn in 2014. Where as Lucifer had worn all white, Michael was dressed in Black, not a splash of colour was on his clothes. Just looking at him drew all the life and warmth from the surroundings.  
He looked ready for a funeral.  
Deans funeral.

His vessel looked as though it had been a last minute choice, his deep brown hair was unkempt and stuck up in odd places. The black suit that sat on his shoulders was creased, the collar was popped and folded backwards so it came to rest messily underneath the shoulder. It had been thrown on in a rush. The guy was young, looked like he'd been picked out of a university bunkhouse. Pale blue eyes held nothing but the void no emotion that was signature to angels who never spent time on Earth.

"Not many options in the vessel department, huh?" Dean managed, flashing a sideways smirk.  
Michael let the out a small laugh. "There's enough."  
Dean had made full eye contact now and to be truthful, he was terrified of what would happen.  
Not just to him.  
The repercussions of what he was going to do would reach further than just him, it would affect Sam, Cas, Bobby, everyone he's ever connected with.  
"You summoned me for a reason." Michael said bluntly interrupting his thoughts, straight to the point.

Dean tried to speak but his words were trapped in his throat, after an uncomfortable pause the words flowed with surprising ease. "In the future... Sam had said yes to Lucifer..."  
Michael didn't react to this information and stayed silent as Dean carried on.  
"And me, the me from that time, told me that in order to stop Sam saying yes I had to say yes." The gravity of what he was doing settled onto his shoulders, no going back now. "And before I make my choice, promise me that Sam would never become... That."  
Tears pricked the corners of his vision as his mind wandered to his younger brother, how he would never be there for him again after this.  
Michael had respected Dean when he spoke, he hung onto every word, like a leader should.

Perhaps there wasn't much of a difference between them. Both elder brothers. Both would do anything to protect their younger sibling. Both willing to sacrifice anything to get what they wanted.  
Both born to lead a side in a war they didn't want. And kill the brother they loved.  
"I can promise you that I will try in all my power to prevent him saying yes. But if it is the choice he makes, your destinies shall come to pass and the apocalypse shall happen. You understand that?"  
Michaels voice left no room to argue. Dean hung his head and nodded. He understood fully.  
Dean took his last few moments to think about everything leading up to this choice.

He and Sam had booked a room in a motel about 150 miles away, Dean had been planning it for a while. He sat at the small table in the room opened a beer and drank. He wasn't one for chick flick moments but it was a mixture of relief and sadness when Sam had gotten into bed to sleep. He planned to talk to him, not tell him his idea to say yes, just talk. Savor the final moments together.  
Dean picked up his coat from the back of his chair, took the gun and numerous knifes out of their hiding places and placed them silently onto the table, picked up his baby's keys and slipped out of his room, away from his brothers calm snoring.  
Away from his brother.

Dean stared at Michael coldly. In the next moment everything he had would be gone.  
Michaels voice rung out. "Dean, make your choice."  
He steeled his stare and his next word felt foreign, something he had nightmares about.  
"Y-yes."  
The whole world seemed to fall silent, that one single word rung out like a whistle through the air.

Michaels eyes glowed softly. It wasn't anything Dean expected. It was nothing like the violent light that shot from dying angels.  
It was... Comforting.  
Dean found himself stepping forward on a whim. Closing the space between him and Michael. The air hummed with power, ancient power, it was the embodiment of true light, true warmth.

A blue stream slowly appeared from Michaels chest, floating lightly through the air and pausing in front of Deans eyes. Glowing with an amazing light.  
And Dean did want he thought was right, he raised his hand and touched it, let it envelope and weave through his fingers.

Dean felt his mind become fuzzy, pins and needles shot around his body and his eyes flickered from darkness to coloured. He felt a heavy force press down on his chest and the air escaped his lungs. Realisation dawned as he was being pushed into the corner of his own mind. His thoughts were replaced with memories of wars, creation. His own voice betrayed him and when he tried to speak, no words escaped.

This was what it was like to be a vessel. Power, raw power. But it was no different from being possessed, only this was consented.  
Dean felt his back straighten, his whole posture changed. He held his head high and a small smile rested on his mouth.  
And at last his voice decided to work, but it wasn't controlled by him.  
"Thank you, Dean." Michaels spoke through Dean's lips. His voice was the same, but his way of speaking was fluent, no fillers or slang words, perfect speech.  
"We have a bit of work to do." Michael said, "But first, let's go and see Sam one last time. I'm sure you'd like that."

And with the light flap of wings and a cools rush of air, the barn was empty except for the former vessel of the archangel who lay still on the floor.


End file.
